


green jewels

by skies_and_caverns



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst, Demon!Bad, F/F, M/M, More characters added later, Multi, Prince!George, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, WILL NOT BE USING REAL NAMES, darryl is bad idk why ao3 only has him under his real name, fae!george - Freeform, god!dream, hope that doesn't spoil too much - Freeform, nymph!sapnap
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:14:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28413720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skies_and_caverns/pseuds/skies_and_caverns
Summary: Your eyes were blue, but now they're fading.Greentheygo.. . .In which Dream is a god, several adorable small children get involved, there's an alcoholic, multiple relationship complications ensue, people find and eat shiny things, there's fire everywhere, and Dream makes several good friends by the power of well-timed stabbing. Not necessarily in that order, and with a hefty helping of angsty slow burn.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound, THE & MEANS IT'S PLATONIC - Relationship, later ships to be added
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	green jewels

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so first off let me say that I upload VERY sporadically. Just a heads up. I'm also REALLY hoping the tags didn't spoil anything.
> 
> (title based off of the song green jewels by kriill)
> 
> (keep in mind the prologue will be WAY shorter than the actual chapters, so don't worry about the length of the first part being so short :))

Evolution spent centuries wiring the human mind to exist in a state of high alert. To operate alongside an inset security system developed purely to analyze minute details in facial features, for the sole purpose of detecting an imposter amongst its own kind. As per "survival of the fittest", it became a universal adaptation.

A necessity.

From the infant wailing at what appeared to be its mother _~~skin too smooth where are mama's ears where are mama's teeth~~_ to the elderly, who saw straight through a perfectly human husk _~~where is the shadow where are the pupils ,~~_ this survival mechanism is so ingrained into the human subconscious that even those who walked amongst the shadow of the moon would be able to recognize that one crucial, miniscule error in a creature. But those who have been shunned by the sun's life-giving rays no longer have the privilege of decadent things such as words.

_So they scream._

Agonizing wails echoed in their cage of mountainous stone. The deads' cries remained unheard among the desolated landscape that they _oh-so-unwillingly_ called their heaven. A desolated heaven that they shared with the very being that drove them mad with fear. One lonesome being, whom the moon’s rays seemed to cling to as they reached out to grasp at him tenderly. ~~hungrily.~~

He was soundless. He had learned from the best, after all: from the prowling wolves, the motionless deer, the dangerous patience of a mamba. He had learned from the moon, who watched with uncaring eyes as he was left to his own devices in an equally uncaring world.

But in this uncaring world, he roamed. He roamed and found others who, in stark contrast to the judgmental stars, had welcomed him. In turn, he welcomed them: the dryads, the nymphs, the merfolk. He knew every sprawling forest, every elderly tree, every sapling that budded between the unforgiving cracks of mountainous stone. 

And yet, though he had found others who began to recognize and greet him warmly, he roamed.

He roamed the lands collecting weapons and various tools, spent his sleepless nights absorbing new ideas. He grew to be the boogeyman that parents warned their small children of before they drifted off to sleep. They called him many names--none of which stuck. Not enough for him to remember, anyway, and the tales did not bother him enough to ingrain themselves as insults. Why should they? He had roamed humans' lands since the beginning of his creation. Met every upset dryad and mourned every fallen willow. Hells, he was there as humans first began to stake their territories and build their corrupted societies. He was there as empires rose. 

He was there when they fell, too.

Endlessly limitless, timelessly flowing, the being drifted through the motions, watching as empires evolved, watching as empires were _unable_ to evolve, and thusly crumbled into the storybook of history. He had no face to be seen, no form to the body that housed his sleek movements other than the deep green cloak that hovered around the ankles of his black leather boots. 

As time went on, he began to grow tired of his endless journeys. The dryads and nymphs had drawn into seclusion, the fae shunned those who were not of their own, and the flowery songs of the forests’ branches fell quiet. They were no longer as caring as they had been. They had seen too many of their brethren fall, had been subject to one too many horrors to put their faith in another being.

Then he was as he always had been. 

Alone.

Now, the humans began to interest him. They began to provide him with newer and newer challenges, and as winters came and went, he finally dared to present himself with one of his very own:

_Blend in with the humans._

They were never to know what he was. Never to know the things he’d seen. The things he’d heard. The things he’d _done_. They would never know what he was capable of and the secrets their treasured books of “enchantment” truly bore. They would never know of the ancient children of Earth, mother herself, who had been forced into isolation for preservation against human violence and greed.

And so, he began to blend in. 

This is not the story of a being bent on revenge for the fallen.

This is not the story of a being known for his benevolence. 

This is—however _cliché_ it may sound—a story of a being learning just what it is to be human. 

. . .

_**But who ever said being human was a good thing?** _

**Author's Note:**

> also i have a twitter if anyone is interested! i don't really tweet much, i mainly just retweet art, but i DO have one!
> 
> @skiesandcaverns
> 
> (here's my spotify if anyone feels like listening:)  
> https://open.spotify.com/user/oom70g8durqfj9jhr6sdxakb0?si=iC9twj4gTxK3BRQ8oILD4Q


End file.
